She halted her thoughts right there. She just couldn’t deal with the thought of him being so loving and attentive with anyone else. Maybe it had been a one-night sort of thing, but she wanted to believe that it was special. She wanted to think their night together had been unique for both of them. Even if it wasn’t going to happen ever again.
Because whether she liked it or not, Franco was right. They’d agreed not to let things get messy for a reason. It was best not to get caught up in some fantasy, because in the end she’d get hurt. Because Franco didn’t do relationships, unless they were of the business variety.
They only had six months in which to make their plan a reality. And if they were so wrapped up in—well, whatever happened last night—they wouldn’t put all their energy into making this venture a huge success.
She quickly grabbed her things—including her wedding dress—and headed for the door. It was time they got back to reality. She was certain once she was home that they would be able to keep the lines in their relationship straight. There would be no more confusion—no more kisses or anything else.
CHAPTER EIGHT
THE RIDE BACK to Verona seemed to go on forever.
Carla couldn’t wait to step in her apartment. She just wanted a few minutes to herself before she faced her father. Being back among her things would make her feel grounded—make her feel more like herself—not like Mrs. Marchello.
But when they reached the city, Franco didn’t make the turn toward her place. “Wait. You missed the turn.”
“No, I didn’t.”
Of course he did. “My place is the other way.”
“And my place is this way.”
“But I don’t want to go to your place. I have to go see my father.”
As Franco maneuvered the car along the sparsely filled road, he chanced a quick glance at her. “You do realize that you’re going to have to move into my place, don’t you?”
“What? No. No. That isn’t going to happen.” She crossed her arms.
In a gentle, nonaggressive voice, he said, “Don’t you think it’s going to look strange to people if we live apart?”
She inwardly groaned. Why did everything that had to do with Franco have to be so complicated? Maybe in her haste to figure out all the legal ramifications and rushing to make sure her father was sufficiently looked after, she might have missed some of the complications of this plan.
She wanted to argue with Franco. She wanted to tell him that it would be totally fine if they lived separately, but she knew that none of that was true. Drat him for being so logical.
“Fine,” she said, “You can move into my place.”
“I don’t think so.”
She turned to him. “Why not? It has two bedrooms.”
“I’ve been to your place to drop off papers, and I’ve seen how small it is compared to my penthouse. Trust me. We’ll be much more comfortable at my place.”
Trust him? The echo of her father’s warning rang in her ears. She’d trusted Franco last night by letting him see a vulnerable side of her, and look where that had gotten her. He’d brushed her off in the light of day, leaving her pride sporting a painful bruise.
She’d trusted her ex and he’d cheated on her, all the while boldly lying to her face about the reason for delaying their wedding. And then there was her father, who’d taught her that trust was supposed to go both ways. And yet he staunchly refused to trust that she was making the right choices for the right reasons.
So no, she wasn’t ready to trust Franco so easily. And she wasn’t ready to give in on their living arrangements just because he said so. “But my place is closer to the office.”
“Your office. Not mine. My place is between them both.”
That much was true. She was running out of reasons why they should stay at her place instead of his. And quite honestly, she just didn’t have the gumption to keep fighting him over this. As it was, she had to deal with her father in the near future. She was going to need all her energy to deal with him and make sure her marriage to Franco didn’t cause him to have a medical setback.
“Okay,” she said softly.
“Excuse me, did you just agree to stay at my place?”
“Yes! Yes, I did. But don’t push it.”
He was quiet for a moment as he negotiated a busy intersection. “Do you want to move your things now?”
“No. I need to go to my place, change clothes and go see my father. It’s time he knows that I intend to take over control of the company. Immediately.”
“Agreed. I’ll go with you.”
“Absolutely not!”
Franco slowed the car as he pulled off into a parking spot. “Why not? I’m your husband.”
She shook her head. “It’ll be too much for him with you there.”
“What do you mean, too much?”
There was quite a bit she’d failed to tell Franco about the true reason behind her move to take over the company. Because when all was said and done, she was willing to give up the company. However, she wasn’t ready to lose her father.
“Just trust me.” She pleaded with him with her eyes, hoping he’d let the subject rest.
The truth of the matter was that she hadn’t wanted to dig into the painful details. She would do whatever it took to see that her father was well taken care of since that stubborn man wouldn’t do it himself. And no, she didn’t want Franco to see her vulnerable again.
Franco’s dark gaze probed her. “If we’re going to trust each other, we have to start talking to each other.”
He was right. Maybe if they’d slowed down long enough to talk last night, they’d have reminded each other of the rules of their marriage, but instead they’d let their desires take over and everything had spiraled out of control. It was a lesson learned.
She glanced down at her clasped hands in her lap. Memories flashed in her mind of seeing her father in a hospital bed. Not once. But twice. She wrung her hands together.
And the last time he was in the hospital, with all the wires connected to his chest and the IV in his arm, his complexion had been the same pale shade as his white sheets. Her tattered heart had tumbled down to her heels.
Carla closed her eyes, willing away the troubling images. She couldn’t go through that again. She couldn’t lose him already. Because if she did—if she lost him—she’d be all alone in this world. And she wasn’t ready for that, either.
Sure, there was Gianna, but she was happily married now and expecting her first baby. She wouldn’t have the time to spend with Carla like they’d done in the past. And though she was immensely happy for her cousin, she knew that things would never be the same again.
But how did she explain any of this to Franco without him seeing her as weak? Because when it came down to it, they were now business partners. And there would be a lot of negotiating in the future of how to handle this venture between her national restaurant chain and his expansive line of spices. It would be quite an endeavor—one where she needed to hold a strong edge so as not to be bulldozed by him and his narrowed pursuits.
“It’s my father.” She hesitated, trying to tamp down her rising emotions.
“I know he isn’t happy about our marriage, but there’s no way he can break the contract as long as we’re married. My attorneys went over everything. They said it was as ironclad as they’d ever seen.”
She shook her head. “It’s not about the contract.”
“Then what is it?” His voice was soft and coaxing.
What would it hurt to tell him? Sure, she’d promised her father not to disclose information about his second heart attack because he’d been worried that his business associates would view him as weak. Her father was the strongest, proudest man she’d ever known.
And telling Franco now when her father was out of the hospital and doing well, according to his
physicians, wouldn’t be a big deal. After all, Franco was now her husband. And maybe if he understood why their combined effort to put his spices in her restaurants was so important to her, he’d be more of an ally than an advisory. Secretly she longed for Franco to be on her side. Otherwise these next six months were going to drag on forever.
“You know that my father had a heart attack the night of Gianna’s wedding, but what you don’t know is that just recently he’d had a second heart attack, and this time they had to do bypass surgery.”
Sympathy reflected in Franco’s eyes. “I’m so sorry.”
“He doesn’t want anyone to know.”
“Why not?”
“He’s afraid people in the business world will treat him differently. But while he’s worried about getting back to work, the doctors are worried that with the amount of damage to his heart, running a business of that size will be too much for him.” Her voice wobbled with emotion. “And I just can’t lose him. Not yet.”
Franco reached out and pulled her close so her head rested on his shoulder. “He’ll be all right.”
She wanted to believe him. “So you see why you can’t come with me today. I just can’t risk getting him too upset.”
“I understand.”
One man in her life understood her decisions, but would the other one be as understanding? She had her doubts.
* * *
Everything was changing so quickly.
Carla hadn’t lingered at her place. She’d quickly packed the essentials and then headed to her father’s house. She told herself that she was in a rush to get back to work—not to see her husband again, even if he was so easy on the eyes.
But first, she had to speak with her father. She found him in his home office. “Hello, Papa.”
He glanced up from the paper he was reading. He slid off his reading glasses. “What are you doing here?”
“Hello to you, too.” She sensed his bad mood hadn’t faded like she’d hoped. She nervously spun her wedding rings around her finger. “What have you been up to?”
He sat forward, resting his arms on the desk. “The real question is why have you married a Marchello?”
The sight of his pale complexion and gaunt cheeks had tears stinging the backs of Carla’s eyes and silenced the rebuttal in the back of her throat. Not so long ago, he’d been the strongest man she’d ever known. But not one but two heart attacks had taken their toll on him. He was different now. He constantly hovered over her as though he didn’t trust her judgment where business was concerned or even her personal life. She’d endured it because she didn’t want to do anything to get him worked up. But things couldn’t continue that way.
“Tell me you came to your senses and backed out of that marriage.” Her father’s voice was still deep and vibrant. His sharp gaze needled her.
She swallowed hard. “No. Franco is a good guy.” She truly believed that or she wouldn’t have gone through with this plan. “You just need to give him a chance.”
Her father shook his head in disapproval. “Don’t trust him. The Marchellos cannot be trusted.”
“Why?”
Her father grunted. “The details don’t matter. Just heed my warning.”
“This grudge or whatever it is, is it the reason you no longer carry their products in our restaurants?”
“It is. Trust me, it’s for the best.” And then he quirked a brow at her. “How did you know?” Before she could answer, he said, “You’ve been talking to Franco.”
“I have. He’s my husband.”
“You can tell him that as long as I live, his family’s products won’t be in any of our establishments. Ever.”
“Even if it’s good business?”
“Doing business with a Marchello is never good business.”
“I won’t waste my time trying to convince you otherwise. Just know now that I’m married, I’ll be assuming full control of the company while you recuperate. And you might as well know that I’ll be reintroducing the Marchello Spices in the restaurants.”
Her father’s bushy brows rose. “You can’t do that!”
“But I can. Remember the deal we signed?”
He pointed at her. “You tricked me.”
“No, I didn’t. I simply did what you wanted—I got married.”
“You were supposed to marry a good and honest man.” His hands waved through the air as he talked.
“I did. If you would just give him a chance—”
“I won’t. I refuse.” He crossed his arms over his chest.
She wasn’t going to push the subject. “Have you been monitoring your blood pressure and writing it down like they told you at the hospital?”
“Yes.”
“And taking all your meds?”
“I can take care of myself. Now go.”
“But Papa—”
“I said go.” His voice boomed in the office.
She didn’t want to leave him like this, but she didn’t see where she had much of a choice. With her being there, he was just getting more worked up. And it wasn’t like he lived alone. Since his first heart attack, she’d hired him a live-in companion.
She turned and headed for the door. She hesitated in the doorway and then turned back. “I’m happy. I just thought you’d want to know.”
Her father’s gaze met hers, but he didn’t say anything.
She walked off to find Aldo and let him know that her father was still agitated, so he should keep a close eye on him that evening. She’d gotten married and assumed control of the company with her father’s best interest in mind. He’d see that when he calmed down. She hoped.
CHAPTER NINE
CARLA HAD GONE directly from her father’s house to the office. Still upset with both of the men in her life, she immersed herself in her work. Thankfully there was a lot of it.
Not in the mood to speak to anyone, she silenced her phone and let the calls go to voice mail. Of course, she kept an eye on the caller ID just in case it was anything about her father.
There was one call from Gianna. Two from business associates and an amazing four calls from her—erm, from Franco. But considering how easily he’d dismissed their night of lovemaking, she didn’t feel compelled to stop what she was doing to take his call.
Even though she’d only been out of the office a day and a half, her email was overflowing. By the time she’d sorted through them, it was past dinnertime.
Part of her felt guilty for not telling Franco that she wouldn’t be around for dinner, but the other part said they were roommates at best and she didn’t owe him updates on her schedule. The truth was that she had no idea how to act toward her husband who wasn’t really her husband. It was so confusing.
When she arrived at the penthouse, it was getting late. She felt weird about being there. She let herself inside with the key Franco had given her. This was only her second time there. The first time had been to go over some items in the marriage contract.
“Franco?” She paused inside the door with two bags slung over each shoulder and a big suitcase with wheels.
The lighting in the apartment was dim. And she didn’t hear anything. Was he even home? She recalled his phone calls. Maybe she should have answered. Did he leave her a voice mail? She fumbled with her purse to retrieve her phone—
“Carla, you’re here.” Franco stepped into the spacious foyer. He looked relaxed, with his hair a bit scattered, the top buttons on his shirt undone, and he was walking around in his bare feet. “I wasn’t sure what time you’d be home. I tried to call you.”
“Sorry I missed your call. I was buried in work.” Heat warmed her cheeks. “You know how it is when you’ve been out of the office for a while.”
“Here.” He stepped up to her. “Let me take those for you.” When she relinquished her load, he said, “I’ll put these
in your room.”
“Thank you.”
“You can make yourself comfortable in the living room. I just had a pizza delivered. Help yourself to it.” And then he set off with her luggage.
Guilt assailed her. Here he was being all nice and thoughtful while she’d been ducking his calls. She placed her purse and phone on the large square coffee table where she noticed Franco’s phone and a fat manila folder. It appeared he’d been working at home.
Remembering her way to the guest bathroom, she freshened up. When she returned to the living room, she found Franco sitting there. He served up a slice of pizza for each of them. For a moment they ate in silence. With her stomach knotted up most of the day, she hadn’t eaten much. As she kicked off her heels and curled up on the large couch, she found her hunger had returned. She devoured her slice of pizza.
Carla served them each another slice. “I’m really sorry about turning off my ringer.”
“It’s okay. I’ve been known to do that a time or two.” He sent her a reassuring smile. “How did things go with your father?”
She found herself opening up about the whole awful affair. It all came tumbling out, and it felt good to get it out there.
Sympathy reflected in Franco’s eyes. “I’m really sorry—”
“You have nothing to be sorry about. This whole marriage thing was my idea. I knew it wouldn’t go over well, but I didn’t think he’d be this mad.”
“Do you want me to speak to him?”
“No.” She shook her head. “Thank you, but I think that would just make everything worse.”
“I’m sure he’ll come around. Just give him a little time.”
She nodded. “I’m sure you’re right.”
While they finished the rest of their pizza in silence, Franco turned on the television to a police drama. She got drawn into it, but her eyelids grew heavy. She leaned back on the couch. She just needed to close her eyes for a moment. Just a moment.
“Carla?”
She heard her name being called, but she wasn’t ready to move. She was so warm and comfortable. And she’d been dreaming that she was wrapped in Franco’s arms as he led her around the dance floor. She didn’t want it to end, because by the look in his eyes, she was certain he was about to kiss her—
Harlequin Romance September 2021 Box Set Page 22
